Page 74 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
Jack, too, was anxious to return to Scotland. The other man was visiting Edinburgh first before returning to Drumvagen.
“While you’re here, you should see something of our city. London is like no other place on earth.”
“I know London well,” he said, telling him of Ceana’s season.
“Then you’ll be off reacquainting yourself with old friends.” Allen lifted a hand in a signal to his first mate. “Let me know where you’re staying,” he said as he walked away, “and I’ll buy you a tankard or two in the way of thanks.”
Macrath turned back to his place along the rail, watching as theFortitude’s frozen cargo was wheeled out of his ice room with Jack directing the activity.
Nearby, pepper was being offloaded. He could taste it in the back of his throat. Crates of tea were being stacked at the end of the pier. As he stood there, a factor approached, met with two other men and started counting.
What friends did he have in London? A few businessmen with whom he had a nodding relationship. A solicitor he’d employed to look over some of his English contracts.
Virginia.
If he sought Virginia out, it would be tantamount to admitting to her and the world how much he’d missed her, how much she was in his thoughts.
She’d turned her back on him. She walked away when he asked her to stay. All he’d gotten in return was the scent of roses and memories relentlessly haunting him.
Where was his pride? Caught and captured by an American lass with a lilting laugh.
For someone who called herself fearful, she was remarkably courageous. Why else would she come to Scotland only days after being widowed? To test him? Had she come to him to see if he felt the same about her as she did about him?
Had he failed her test somehow?
What had he done wrong? For that matter, what could he have done to keep her in Scotland?
Whenever he worked on a machine, the ultimate design began as a plan, but evolved as a prototype. What might have looked functional when he started might be tossed in the manufacturing process. Give and take, trial and error, they were all vital to a successful finished product.
He had the inkling that the same process would work in relationships, especially this relationship. They were drawn to each other by strong emotions and pulled apart by circumstances, first of her father’s making, and then because she was the Countess of Barrett, newly widowed.
Enough time had passed that she wouldn’t shock the world by marrying now.
Nor would he be guided by his pride when he might find happiness.
“Ican’t work like this, Mr. Paul,” the maid said, sniffing into the corner of her apron.
If it hadn’t already been stained with the polish she’d spilled earlier, he would have demanded she find a handkerchief instead.
“With her looking out of the corner of her eye at me like she’s waiting for me to make a mistake.”
“Cook is overworked like the rest of us,” he said, hoping to calm the girl. “I doubt she cares as much about what you’re doing as long as it doesn’t affect her workload.”
“She wants me to clean the pots. I’m no scullery maid,” she said.
Did she know she stunk of onions, so strongly that the library reeked?
He smiled, an expression that had always caused the maids to flutter their eyelashes and giggle. In the last month, however, his smile had no effect on the female staff at all.
The household was in shambles, but he was trying to muster everyone together. He was the de facto majordomo since Albert had left and the position was vacant. Eudora had died, the dowager countess had taken to her rooms, Virginia was ill, and Ellice was too young to assume any command. He alone was there to mitigate the disagreements and hear the whines and complaints from the ten staff members.
The maids listened better than the men. He had fired the stable master for insubordination, but the man was refusing to leave.
“I don’t take my orders from you,” he said. “When the dowager countess fires me, I’ll consider myself gone. But not by you.”
The stable master’s mutiny had been joined by the coachman. Hosking was another one he’d fire when he got the power.
“All the downstairs maids are taking turns,” he said to the girl now. “You can’t expect Cook to fix all the meals and scrub all the dishes.”
